Just a few good-luck wishes for 2011

I didn’t eat black-eyed peas on New Year’s Day, but I did plant sweet peas. I love the delicate sweet-smelling flowers that bloom before the weather turns Louisiana-hot, and I thought they might bring good luck, the way black-eyed peas are supposed to on Jan. 1.

I meant to plant them in November, but in November all the seed stores I checked were out of them. Then last week I found a brown paper bag in our garage with some leftovers seeds from 2009, and I figured I didn’t have anything to lose by sticking them in the ground.

We have an old pen next to Stroup’s workshop that dates back to the days when we thought -- at least for a week or two -- that our yellow Lab Sunny and our little circus dog Gladys (and the others who’ve followed them) were going to be mainly outside dogs. The house inside the pen rotted away a decade ago, but the wire is still sturdy. It’s perfect for the tall kind of sweet peas to climb up. I planted them first, and put the knee-highs along the fence in front of our house. While I was pressing them into the cold, wet soil, I could already see them blooming in a rainbow of colors.

There is something about the beginning of a new year that fills me with hope. Stroup would probably call it my irrational enthusiasm. I know it’s just another day, but it’s also a kind of starting over, a time for looking forward, believing that 2011 will bring more good things than bad.

People keep asking me about our Christmas, and I have to tell them it did not live up to my hopeful expectations. We flew to Virginia with our daughter Shannon and granddaughter Cilie so our whole family could be together. Our first two days were fine, but at around 2 a.m. on Christmas morning, I was suddenly stricken with a stomach virus that knocked me flat, and Stroup followed me by just a few hours. We spent Christmas Day at Claire and Randall’s being completely miserable while the rest of our family was eating a big traditional Christmas breakfast at Keegan and Suzanne’s and then opening gifts.

“There were so many, we saved yours for later,” Claire said, when they came home late that afternoon.

Our main goal during our visit became avoiding giving the bug to anyone else, although we did go over to Keegan and Suzanne’s the day after Christmas. Suzanne had made us chicken soup, and we needed to open the presents that were still under the tree.

There weren’t too many because I'd been determined not to buy any of our children or grandchildren gifts that take up space. They’re all running out of room. We got everyone tickets to see the Harlem Globetrotters at the Verizon Center in Washington instead. This is the 85th year of the legendary basketball team, and when I was a little girl, it was always a treat for my family to watch them play in Chicago. It made me smile to think of our grandkids seeing them for the first time.

I also got every grandchild something Saints related: Black and gold boas for Tierney and Maren, pink fleur-de-lis socks for Grace, and long-sleeved shirts for Aidan, Declan and Holden.

Declan, almost 4, needed something long-sleeved for sure. He had been putting on his worn-out Reggie Bush jersey in the morning, even in 30-degree weather. He insists on showing his black-and-gold every day.

We gave Kiernan, who turned 14 on Dec. 30, a new Drew Brees jersey as an early birthday present. And Cilie, 16 months old, got a cheerleading outfit to wear home the day of the Monday-night game against Atlanta.

“Love the Saints dress,” a young woman called out, as we were boarding the plane.

A few hours after we landed in New Orleans, Shannon left me a message on our phone: “Mom, I did not escape your fate,” she said, sounding pitiful.

She had come down with the terrible stomach bug we were just getting over.

It was bitterly cold that night, so I drove over to her house and covered up her citrus trees. Then I packed up her and Cilie and her dog Collin and brought them over to our house.

That whole night seems dreamy now. I took care of Cilie, assuring her that Mommy would be better in a day or two. Shannon was too sick to watch the game, so I kept going to check on her and give her updates. Stroup was still feeling bad, too. He asked me to record the rest of the game and went to bed at halftime.

So it was just me, Hokie Gajan and Jim Henderson watching that game together. During the fourth quarter I was yelling so loud I kept waking up the dogs, and every time I went to see Shannon, she’d lift her head and say, “What just happened?”

When it was finally over, I breathed a sigh of relief and went to bed, exhausted.

It took that whole week for me to recuperate -- from being sick and from watching one of the most exciting football games I’ve ever seen.

As we start 2011, I have just a few wishes: Good health for everyone, sweet-smelling flowers in the spring, and four more wins for the Saints.

Sheila Stroup's column appears Sunday, Tuesday and Thursday in Living. Contact her at sstroup@timespicayune.com or 985.898.4831.